<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Cat's Out of The Bag by burntplastiic</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367072">Cat's Out of The Bag</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntplastiic/pseuds/burntplastiic'>burntplastiic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Animal Death, Homophobic Language, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Patrick Hockstetter is His Own Warning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:09:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntplastiic/pseuds/burntplastiic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>the boys find a bag after running it over and have a little chat. that's about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Henry Bowers/Patrick Hockstetter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cat's Out of The Bag</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just Henry and Patrick being themselves. sorry if it's not too good, i wrote this two years ago, oh boy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh well, s’dead now...nothin' much we can do for it anymore.” Patrick sighed at the sight, and then proceeded to kick at the bloodied bag with a booted foot, watching it tumble across the street like a deflated soccer ball.</p><p>His voice was soft and his face wore a sided smile, feeling nothing for the dead animal being held captive in the burlap sack. If he was being honest, he liked to imagine the kitten’s spirit fighting to get out of the fabric prison so it could finally rest, but to no avail. The thought made a crackling giggle escape his lips.</p><p>“You’re fuckin' sick y'know?” Henry scowled at the actions taking place in front of him, nose scrunched up in both disgust and shame. He swore he could smell the already rotting carcass from where he stood, but it was just nerves getting the best of him.</p><p>On their way out of town, someone must've gotten the bright idea to throw a bag into the street and the boys just so happened to be the ones that ran it over, the large jolt of the impact causing them to stop and investigate. Henry thought it had been a rock and nothing more, but with the way Patrick’s eyes lit up when his head hit the roof of the car, he knew he was wrong.</p><p>“I know, but you also know I like it that way.” He responded in another giggle, coming around the car to grab the bag off the sidewalk where it now seemed to be resting, some of the blood seeping through and staining the concrete. “Now, wanna look inside? You fucked this sucker up pretty good.”</p><p>“Whoa whoa, me?!” He shouted, feeling accused and pissed. “I’m not the sicko fuckin' throwin' bagged up cats into the streets, idiot! This is NOT on me–”</p><p>“You can deny it all ya want Bowers, but the evidence is right here. All the cards are in their rows.” He chuckled and swung the bag to and fro, letting drops of crimson drip onto the toes of his boots. “Hell, I’m even a witness to this devastatin' crime!” His tone was dramatic and his face held a joking smile.</p><p>After all, he didn’t give a shit about some dead cat.</p><p>The other boy was glaring daggers his way with arms now crossed tightly across his chest, eyes flashing in the bright sunlight that was bouncing off the concrete. His eyebrows were dipped down and teeth were bared, a sight the raven had grown to somewhat adore and cherish, seeing as anger usually meant fights.</p><p>“Shut up Hockstetter, before I shove your face into that fuckin' bag an' make you eat it.” He growled under his breath, making his way back to the air conditioned car. The sun was beating down strong, and he didn’t want to be around when the cat started cooking in the already foul smelling sack.</p><p>Patrick just shrugged and took one last look at the bag before releasing his grip and kicking out his foot, sending the dead animal a few good feet through the air and into some poor family's backyard.</p><p>"Hockstetter hits a homerun an'– s’out of the park! The crowd goes wild!" He cheered a little too enthusiastically, though his eyes were hollow, arms outstretched towards the sky as he went back to the passenger's side of the bright blue Trans Am.</p><p>It was their friend, Belch Huggins’ car, and he'd probably scold them deaf for getting blood on the dimming headlights and worn tires, but that wasn't the most important thing on either of their minds right now.</p><p>Patrick's was occupied with all the things they could possibly do if they went to grab the bag again, wanting to see what was really inside.</p><p>Henry's was cluttered with both anxiety and fear, afraid his dad would somehow hear of this and make him sorry for it. He could feel the buckle imprints across his back from the other night flaring up and squeezed his eyes shut in response to the phantom pain.</p><p>His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white and hands shaking. Once the other noticed, he heard a stifled laugh and then felt a larger hand resting atop his own. Rough, calloused, and bony.</p><p>"Calm down man, I ain't actually gonna tell anyone. S'no big deal, these things happen." He sounded insincere, but that was Patrick for you. Psychotic and apathetic, someone Henry absolutely despised, but even someone as threatening as Henry Bowers was too scared to say that aloud in Hockstetter's presence.</p><p>He, Vic, and Belch were wary when the quiet Hockstetter kid started to include himself in their activities, seeming to enjoy the gross and violent things they did a little too much for their liking, but he was too disturbing to ask leave, the three of them sure the raven would find a way to get them back. An upside to it all though, was the fact that his father never laid a hand on him with Patrick around, unsure of what would make that blue eyed headcase snap. Patrick seemed to be protective of Henry during those moments. Almost.</p><p>“Get your hand offa me– You’re probably over the fuckin' moon that this happened.” He’d taken note of the boy’s blown out pupils and shifting eyes, moving from Henry to the spot where the bag had laid in a fast paced manner. “Probably gettin' hard over that thing too–”</p><p>He couldn’t lie, he was kind of excited, having had to put his ‘hobby’ on hold for the last few weeks so the missing posters could be torn down and forgotten about. And now, with being a part of this completely coincidental killing he could hear his blood pumping, echoing in his ears. He felt his heart racing so fast that it was hitting his ribs violently with how skinny he was. A familiar warmth stirred in his chest and he broke into a toothy grin, sharp canines showing off as his top lip curled upwards. He knew that feeling all too well.</p><p>“Wanna help it go away, Hank?” He purred in that high, nasally voice of his, somehow making it sound husky as he leaned in. His hand that had been resting on Henry’s was now trailing up the bare sunkissed arm, smirking into the blond’s throat, teeth daring to sink down and draw blood. “That’ll keep me quiet for sure.”</p><p>Henry felt the hot breath against his cooling skin and shuddered, his heart fluttering, quickly pushing Patrick off of him and landing a hard blow to the boy’s left cheek.</p><p>“Don’t you ever fuckin' try that again faggot–” The words dripped venom and Hockstetter was loving this by the look of it. Henry wasn’t any better. His cheeks were flushed from more than just the sun and Patrick could tell. They had played this game so many times that by now it was basic routine.</p><p>Henry rejects his advances and Patrick backs off like told, which in turn infuriates the shorter until he’s practically seething and whining for him to keep it up. Saying that he didn’t mean to push him away, he didn’t really want him to stop. Patrick loved it, a side of weakness and lust he’d never seen before.</p><p>He took hold of the wheel again as the raven held his imprinted cheek with one hand, rubbing over the tinting skin as he felt nothing from the assault. Sure, he’d felt his face being forced another direction, but the initial strike didn’t land the pain that it had intended to. The worst part about being him, he’d always tell himself.</p><p>“Fine, don’t gotta be so rude 'bout it.” He leaned against the door of the car, hooking an arm out the window, eyes squinting as his head soon followed, meeting the sun’s strong rays. “So, where to now? I hear that Elm Street movie is still playin'.”</p><p>“I’m takin' you home first, you smell like death–” Was all the other said before pulling off of the sidewalk and backing up back into the road.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>